Sleep It Off, Darling
by Val-Creative
Summary: Not using makes it feel like there's pieces of broken glass underneath Klaus's skin. Rattling around inside his teeth.


**.**

**.**

Could have used some molly before all of this. Or kit kat.

Klaus stumbles out of the taxi, flinging his cash into the passenger-side window and ignoring the driver yelling that it's not enough. The horn blares. Once, maybe twice.

But nobody comes after him. Thank fucking christ.

Not using makes it feel like there's pieces of broken _glass_ underneath Klaus's skin. Rattling around inside his teeth. Sex can help him forget. A natural high of sorts. Klaus doesn't have to worry about looking around the room and seeing decomposing, shrieking ghosts when those endorphins catapult, wringing soft, whimpering moans out of him when some handsome, nameless guy pounds Klaus in the ass. It's fucking _great_.

But it doesn't help going to the BSDM clubs. He knows that. Especially when the _fuckhole_ taking care of him broke one of Klaus's soft limits — his dom ignored a safeword, ravishing Klaus's neck with sucking, saliva-wet kisses and muscular hands, caning the back of Klaus's thighs to a purplish-bruised sheen.

Klaus gets run out of the building by security, yelling indignantly in the alleyway and shuddering, his knuckles dripping _a lot_ of blood. Fuckhole won't be waking up easy in the morning with his concussion.

He's never that violent. Without the drugs, Klaus can feel his '_superhero_' combat training rearing up.

(Red light was a good, dependable safeword. Red, _red_, like the gushing, gleaming fluid.)

The adrenaline drains out of him. The bus ride feels like a hazy, glowing memory, but here Klaus is, standing and huddling outside the Umbrella Academy's entrance, wrapping his bare arms around himself tightly. He snatched up a woman's dark cocoon-cardigan left abandoned on the bus-seat next him, draping it on, breathing in the scent of orchid perfume. Nothing but his leather, black lace-up pants and a see-through, open collared mesh shirt shields Klaus from the bitter cold night air otherwise.

Pogo and Mom are nowhere to be found as Klaus shoves open the unlocked front door. Or anyone else.

The chandeliers dimly lit. Everything in this goddamn place has an odor to it like dust and old people soap. Klaus's stomach roils. He shuffles through the downstairs corridor when Five and Vanya turn the corner, gesturing slightly, deep in a pleasant conversation. Vanya's lips flatten when she glances at him.

Five notices where she's staring, eyes narrowing. "What the hell happened to you?" he asks quietly.

"_Whaddyou care_…" Klaus mutters, his jaw clenching to stop the tremors. He jostles roughly past Five, prompting a loud, irritated curse and a scowl, not giving either of them a look.

"Hey, Five," Vanya murmurs, watching Klaus's back. "Can you go get some blankets and water?"

An exasperated grunt.

"_Please_."

Reality warps into a swirling blue portal, disappearing as soon as Five rolls his eyes and steps through it.

Vanya heads to the parlor where Klaus walks in a circle, still gripping his own arms, breathing irregularity. "You gonna keep following me around?" Klaus croaks out, inching away from her approaching.

"Yeah actually." Vanya's smile brims with lighthearted sarcasm. "That's something I'm pretty used to doing with you guys."

Guess he deserves that. Klaus jerks back, physically as if he's gonna be struck, when a worried Vanya reaches for him. "Okay. It's _okay_, let me help," she insists, peeling a dirtied sticker from Klaus's cheek. Not a _sticker_ — a blot of party-sized confetti, flashy and metallic-green. Klaus frees one of his arms, rubbing over his face, his thumbpad and index fingertip grinding over his black makeup-smeared eyelids.

"I wasn't good to you… when we were kids…"

"We were kids," Vanya points out, calm as calm can be.

"_Doesnnnmatter_…" He waves his hand idly, flopping onto a velvet-lined bench. "I just… didn't _care_," Klaus adds, mock-grinning, breathlessly laughing. Whatever it takes to make Vanya leave him. Not look at him like everybody else does — like he's a waste of oxygen. Pointless. A _freak_.

She never did, and that's the shittiest part. Vanya was always the one who wanted to understand what it meant to be part of the team, to be included and to feel loved back. She loved _them_ unconditionally.

Vanya drops down next to him, propping up her knee over the other and clasping both hands to her ankle.

"You don't have to talk about what happened."

Gentle. So _gentle_.

Klaus's mouth quivers. He tries to disguise it, lifting up the edge of the hemmed, oversized cardigan.

Five zaps back into existence, tossing a multi-patterned quilt at Vanya and heaving a whole case of Mountain Spring water at their feet. Vanya leans over to rip open the plastic packaging, cracking open a bottle. "There was some beef jerky sitting out on the kitchen table," Five announces, pulling a crumpled bag out of his navy-colored blazer's pocket. "Might be Diego's… but help yourself, I suppose."

He's not up for eating with an _audience_, but Vanya encourages a few, tentative bites out of Klaus eventually and to drink the water. It's cold enough to make Klaus's throat convulse. He spits up some of the water, gasping, shaking hard and blinking out warm, mascara-dark tears. "Take it slow, Klaus."

As Vanya helps unclasp Klaus's sweetheart choker, Five uncrosses his arms and sits down on the opposite side. Most of Klaus's throat covered in reddening kiss-welts and long, burning scratches now inflamed pink.

"… Did someone hurt you?" Five blurts out.

Klaus turns his head, staring at him dumbfounded. Five's expression seems grim. Why the protective nature in it? And why… holy shit, it's such an _innocent_ question, considering how many people Klaus fucked tonight and let them get their hands on him… and from a 58-year-old virgin in a 13-year-old body…

_No_ idea. Not a goddamn idea how to answer that.

The drawn-out laughter escaping Klaus starts out completely noiseless, rocking his entire body, before his face becomes a permanent grimace and Klaus sobs intensely, bending over, closing his eyes. He can barely feel Vanya's fingers gripping sturdy onto his and Five's hand touching lightly over Klaus's nape.

Allison and Diego walk in during the middle of it. "Is… everything alright?"

"Does it _look_ alright?!" Five hisses out.

Diego jabs his forefinger at him. "Hey, asshole, _don't_ talk to her like that!"

"Then how about not asking stupid questions?!"

"_I can't_," Klaus says tearfully, getting back on his feet. "_IcantICANT_—" He pulls away from Vanya and Five, clutching over his mesh-shirt and hyperventilating. They're all too loud. Everybody. Fear dizzies him. Ben calls out his name, materializing on his left, but Klaus doesn't wanna hear it.

He rushes out for the corridor, and Diego grabs onto Klaus's wrist, yanking him.

"Hold on, you wanna explain—"

All of the full-forced screaming brings in a disgruntled and half-asleep Luther. His pajamas straining against his massive physique. "Let him go, Diego," he orders, rubbing his eyes, not bothering to get the full story.

"Like hell," Diego snaps, keeping a firm grip on the other man, and then wavering. Klaus stares right back into his eyes, mouth hanging open, flush-faced and more vulnerable than he's felt in a long time. But Klaus is determined to get the _fuck_ away, yanking _out_ of Diego's reach. "… … you're not high, are you…"

Another inky-grey tear rolls Klaus's cheek. He says nothing but Diego must believe it, because there's an an unspoken apology on his lips, and Diego's arms go for a bear-hug. They haven't done that since… _god_, Klaus doesn't know. The weight of _everything_ — being alone, feeling so much self-hatred, losing Dave — finally lands on him, and Klaus collapses against Diego, too-tired to sob his heart out.

"_Diego_," Allison speaks up, terrified. She cradles up the back of Klaus's head as it lolls backwards.

"I've got him, s'okay…"

Klaus doesn't feel his legs being scooped up, or realize that Luther trips over the gigantic bottled water package, or know he's being carried up the staircase, or hear Vanya and Ben. He does focus on Diego's subdued features as he lies a whining Klaus down on a cot. The knife-belts and holsters being unstrapped.

"Look, man," Klaus listens to the rumble of Diego's tone, his eyes shut, leaning unconsciously into the fingers stroking awkwardly against his hair. "Just for one night, got it?"

Confusion rises in his gut until Diego lies down with him on the mattress, wrapping an arm to Klaus.

A huffing laugh.

_Sleep_.

Maybe that's what Klaus needs.

He curls into the other man, going into a fetal position, tucking in his arms. It feels _so_ good to cuddle up with another warm body. Someone who gives a shit about him. Even if Diego never admits it.

Diego's fingers rub lazily into Klaus's shoulder-blade, and that's how he drifts off.

Wanted.

_Loved._

**.**

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* * *

_TUA isn't mine. MY KINK HIGHKEY IS KLAUS GETTING SOME LOVE AND APPRECIATION BUT ALSO ANGSTY!KLAUS. THAT'S WHY I TOOK THIS PROMPT. It asked for "Klaus/Anyone. __Sub!Klaus coming home from a BDSM party/club/hookup with bad subdrop, getting some aftercare" and there's a lovely fill done before mine, and I suppose mine is a little more focused on Klaus getting that aftercare in a friendship/Gen setting BUT BUT BUT,,,, I had to try it to see what I would do. I hope you all enjoy this and I would very much appreciate any little comments or thoughts you had about it! Be safe and stay healthy!  
_


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